


bacardi and butts of cigarettes (or how Katya needs to get out of her fucking head)

by LovelyPlantPrincess



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Kinda Dark, Mentions addictions, Other, Probs awful, first time writing for this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4752095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyPlantPrincess/pseuds/LovelyPlantPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late night trade (that didn't like the session) and Katya is so deep in her head only Violet kicking her ass can get her out of it. Some Katlet friendship, and also a little bit of Trixya friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bacardi and butts of cigarettes (or how Katya needs to get out of her fucking head)

The smoke from Katya's cigarette curled and twisted into the sky, the slight nicotine rush pumping her veins and giving her a slight boost for her next gig. She breathes the smoke out through her nose, ignoring the way it charged her up and calmed her down and made her feel electric and negative all at the same time. She ignores a lot of things nowadays.

'They' call her a ditz, a bimbo, only knows how to use her tongue and body to get to the top. She doesn't care. She can't care. She's working on that - not caring. Not giving two shits. But so far, she's only gone as far as people.

If she thinks she overthinks and if she overthinks she second guesses and she can't afford to second guess because then she can't perform. People didn't want some half-broken not-so-addict - they don't want the truth. They want to forget. They wanted Katya Zamo-how-do-you-say-it and some dirty song to blast their eardrums to hell while this sexy version of a woman dances and splits and cartwheels and fucks her way to the end. They wanted cocktails and make-up and 'tucks so tight you can bounce a chicken pot pie off of them'. They wanted the lines between real and fake to be blurred and smudged like lipstick. They wanted _her_. Not him.

It's adrenaline. It's living. It's surviving. What's the difference?

Tonight, she goes home, Brian will pack away Katya and take a couple of sleeping pills - "Non-addictive, Mister McCook, you have nothing to worry about." - with some ICEE slushy - her new addiction, she can't seem to live without them; whether it be some addiction or a goddamned blueberry slushy, it's the same thing - go to sleep. Or spend two hours dicking around on her phone, texting booty calls and old clients, trying to get hard enough to yank himself to sleep.

Then he'll wake up in the morning and unpack Katya all to do it all again. Brian McCook. Katya Zamolodchikova. Two different people, same person, who gave a single goddamned shitting fuck?

Boston. Moscow. Who cared? As long as the fans got a good show, and 'mom' has them fucking living in the crowd.

"Katya," a sweet voice says. She looks over, trying not to think anymore. It's just Trixie. Her blue contacts glisten, and Katya frowns. "You've been blowing smoke in my face for the past five minutes."

Oh. How long had Trixie been standing there? Katya looks at the shriveled butt of a cigarette between her fingers and flicks it into a puddle. Trixie blinks away the burning feeling in her eyes and grabs her friends hand. Katya flinches reflexively, but it's just Trixie. Just Trixie.

"You alright?"

"Just tired. I didn't sleep much last night," Katya admits. How could she sleep when the person next to her was a 6'5 supermodel from somewhere, nearly twenty-years her elder yet somehow younger than her in the eyes, and they were snoring so fucking loud he could've sworn the entire apartment building knew she was a little gay slut.

"Oh. I didn't either. My boyfriend and I-" Katya tunes out. Nodding and laughing and screeching where necessary. Trixie talked a lot about her boyfriend, Katya didn't want to hear it. She was happy for her best friend, really, but she also didn't give two single shits what he did with that one puppy and that one charity and that one fucking baby one time.

"You should just marry him," Katya says, her voice dry as a bone. Trixie looks at her, smart little barbie Trix picking up on the sarcasm leaking from her voice. More like a full on steady pour, from someone's weird plumbers faucet. "You would be cute."

Katya scrambles to recover, but it's too late. She's stuck in her head and now Trixie isn't going to fucking let up about it.

Trixie is called on stage and Katya is deposited with Kennedy with a soft 'watch her'. Kennedy watchesher for two point five seconds before some hot hunk PA walks by and she's distracted.

Katya desperately tries to slip back out the back door, but Violet catches her and grabs her bicep and jesus fucking christ, I want to be alone.

"If Trixie fucking Mattel is worried about you, bitch, then you better spill it."

Katya was always happy. Katya has to be happy. These other bitches have too many problems for her to be sad. She was mom - despite being younger than Violet and Kandy put together - and she was a cheery, ditzy, stupid funny mess.

"Can a bitch have an off night, like damn," Katya says. Violet rolls her eyes and cocks her nonexistent hips. Girl, really, just a few layers of tights and foam... but she's cinched to the gods so Katya mentally shrugs.

"Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova does not have off nights. That bitch slays in her fucking sleep," Violet says. Katya is generally surprised, at the proper pronunciation of her name or of the genuine compliment from Violet, of all people, she's not sure.

"Oh, my precious little trinket," Katya says. "I'm just tired. I swear, my beautiful... dolled up... slut." Even her jokes are weak tonight. She could really use a red-bull and a cigarette and a good dick to suck.

"Get out of your head, Kat," Violet mutters, touching her face with her too-sharp nails. It's gentle and it sends a comforting shiver down Katya's spine. Trixie was Katya's best friend, but she simply didn't know how to comfort her like Violet did and why the fuck why was she measuring Trix over Vi? 

"Didn't anyone ever tell you there's nothing to find up there?"

"Just gods and monsters and used up taints." There. That's a little better.

"That's my girl. We can talk after this set, yeah? And you're not allowed to say no, you fucking Russian tramp."

"Then yeah, you gutless cunt," Katya grins. Violet grins and reaches up to tug the older queens ears.

"You've got a show to put on, pussywillow." And she'd put that show on for the rest of her life if she had to.


End file.
